


Keep Fighting

by o_rcrist



Series: Tumblr Prompt [5]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-23
Updated: 2012-04-23
Packaged: 2017-11-04 05:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o_rcrist/pseuds/o_rcrist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Romans ambush the Rebels in the woods, and Nasir receives a wound that quickly proves lift threatening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Fighting

**Author's Note:**

> *Just so ya’ll know I do have a phobia of snakes, and the research that I did for this drabble took about ten years off my life. Even though I never said what specific snake venom they used, it’s the Common European Adder/Viper. Go on wikipedia if you want to see the full range of symptoms. I avoided the more gruesome ones, but still mentioned half of them.

The woods were calm and silent as they hunted. The rebels were beginning to run low on meat, so Agron had organized a hunting party. They had traveled far from the temple, as the boar they hunted had become scarce around it. He had a spear in hand, ready to throw it as the slightest movement. Nasir was next to him, a slingshot in hand. He had surprising accuracy with it; able to throw the rocks farther than Agron could his spear.

 As they walked, Agron started to feel uneasy. He felt as if they were not the only ones hunting in the shadow of Vesuvius. He could not explain why though. They had not encountered anyone in the woods, and they were safe. He shook the feeling off, telling himself it was a foolish thought.

 “Agron!” he turned at the sound of his name. It was just a whisper, but it sounded unnaturally loud. Donar was waving him over to a small clearing. He quickly walked over, the others following behind him. As he stood next to Donar, his feeling of unease returned tenfold. Before them stood a recently dismantled camp, the embers still glowing in the fire. A red banner hung from one of the trees. A  _Roman_  banner.  

“We must move away from here, before we are discovered.” The others immediately began to make their way back the way they had come, but it was too late. Agron could hear cries of men through the trees, growing louder as they quickly approached. As one they drew their weapons, and waited for the Romans to break through the trees. The first one was impaled by Agrons spear, a second fell when a rock collided with his head. He grinned, his eyes quickly flicking to Nasir, then back to the Romans. Donar threw his spear at another who ran through the trees. He lost track of what the others were doing as one ran at him. He easily avoided the shits sword, and slashed his sword across the man’s back. The Roman cried out in pain, and dropped to his knees, where Agron finished him off with a thrust to the neck.

He looked back up, as he heard a fierce cry. Another fucking soldier. He was running at Agron brandishing his sword. Agron stood his ground, waiting for the fool to come within striking distance, but before he did, a rock came flying from the side, colliding with the man’s skull with a sickening crunch. Agron watched as the lifeless body crumpled to the ground, before looking to where the rock had come from. Nasir stood there with the slingshot in his hand again, grinning. Agron looked to the others, pleased to find that they were all still alive. They had made quick work of the soldiers, and none would live to return to Rome.

“Take their weapons, and anything else that might be of worth to us,” he ordered. They quickly set to task. Nasir came to kneel before the soldier he had killed, and began to strip him of his weapons. A small trickle of blood was flowing down his left arm. Agron quickly kneeled and inspected the wound. A small scratch running across his upper arm, nothing to serious. Nasir looked down, and seemed startled at the sight of the blood.

“I did not even notice,” he told the gladiator; “I suppose I felt it, but the pain never registered.”

Agron gave him a small smile, “You’re sounding more like a gladiator every day.” Nasir laughed, pulling his arm from Agrons grasp, and continued to strip the soldier of his weapons. Agron went to another, and soon they had a pile on the forest floor. The others were laughing, pleased at the prospect of new weapons, and coin. There was one laugh that was not among them though.

Agron looked over, and saw Nasir leaning against a tree. He was shaking slightly, and Agron was instantly at his side. “Nasir?” He took the Syrians face in his hands, shocked to find his skin burning. “What is wrong?” he anxiously asked.

“My arm,” Nasir groaned, struggling to get the words out.

Agron glanced over to the wound, and was alarmed to find it slightly swollen. A second later, Nasir’s legs gave out, and Agron barely managed to catch him before he collided with the ground. He pulled Nasir into his lap, cradling him in his arms. “Nasir!” Agrons mind was racing, what had happened in the few minutes he had not been at Nasirs side? His eyes feel to Nasirs wound, and Agrons heart raced. “Nasir, which one struck you?” he frantically asked. Nasirs eyes remained closed, his breathing labored. He pushed the Syrians hair from his face, and brown eyes slowly opened to meet his.

“The one with the scar across his face,” he said weakly, his eyes closing once again.

“Who stripped the fuck of his weapons,” he demanded.

Donar reached into the pile, and pulled out one of the swords, “This was his.” He held it out to Agron, and could see a small streak of blood on it. Nasirs blood. He looked past it, and saw something else. A faint streak on the sword, only visible when Donar held it in the light.

“Keep that one separate from the others, and do not let the blade touch you,” he ordered. He could feel Nasir shaking in his arms, and lifted him up. Nasir weakly wrapped his good arm around Agron, clutching his wounded one to his chest.

“Lugo, take what weapons you can carry, and follow us back.” The German nodded, and went back to the shits camp. Agron did not even bother to ask what he was doing; his attention was solely fixed on the man in his arms. “Donar, we need to get Nasir to the Medicus.” The gladiator nodded, and they quickly made their way back.

 

~~*~~

 

The pain coming from his arm was unbearable. He could feel it spreading through his entire body. Even when the Roman had stabbed him, when his wound had been sealed with fire, that pain did not compare to what he felt now. He could faintly hear a soft voice talking to him, and did his best to focus on it. His mind slowly realized that it was Agrons voice, whispering words of comfort. He gripped at the gladiator tighter, and could feel Agrons tighten around him even more.

His eyes flickered open occasionally, only to find the sunlight to bright, burning his eyes. A few times his brown eyes met blue ones, before they closed again.

Nasir could faintly hear voices yelling around him. The tight embrace around him was gone, and he wanted it back. It was the only comfort he had. “Agron,” he mumbled. He heard a familiar voice, and felt strong arms around him again, before losing consciousness.

 

~~*~~

 

“What do you mean there is nothing you can fucking do?” Agron glared at the Medicus, who took a step back in the wake of the gladiator’s anger. Spartacus quickly placed a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back. He shrugged the Thracian off, and advanced toward the Medicus.

“The Roman coated his sword in snake venom. The only thing I can do for him is give him herbs that will take away the pain, but if I do so, he might die. I do not know which snake it was, so I do not know which herbs to give him. The wrong ones would kill him.” Agron continued to glare at the Medicus. This man had saved many of the gladiator’s lives from worse, and now he could do  _nothing_  to help Nasir? He shook his head. “There must be something,” he begged. The Medicus shook his head, “I cannot do anything, not without endangering his life more. He will have to fight this out on his own.”Agron ran his hands through his hair, not knowing what to do. “He will only be in pain for a few days,” the Medicus said.

“And what happens when that pain is gone?” Agron demanded.

“He lives, or he will greet you in the afterlife.”

Agron made to grab the Medicus, but Spartacus had been watchful, and grabbed him from behind, ordering the Medicus out of the room. “Agron! Calm yourself! Throttling the Medicus will do nothing for Nasir!” He knew the Thracian spoke the truth, but the Medicus had crossed the line, daring to say what Agron had feared the most. Nasir would not die. Agron stopped fighting, and Spartacus released him.

Agron looked over to where Nasir fitfully slept. Nasirs eyes opened for a moment, focusing on him, before they were screwed shut again in pain. He was at his Syrians side in a moment, once again taking Nasir in his arms. Nasir weakly clutched at him, his body burning with fever. He gently sat down on the bed, not wanting to jostle Nasir, cradling the smaller man in his arms. He heard Spartacus leave the room, but his eyes were only for Nasir. His skin glistened with sweat, and Agron could feel the smaller man’s heart pounding beneath his chest.

He heard the mats part, and briefly looked up. Naevia was holding a jug of water, with several clean rags on her arm. Crixus stood behind her, holding another jug and a bowl. She laid them down beside the bed, gently taking Nasirs face in her small hands. Nasir briefly opened his eyes at the touch, and she offered him a small smile. Agron could see the small twitch of Nasirs lips, before his eyes shut once more. Naevia sighed, and let go of Nasir, who buried his face in Agrons chest. She took the bowl from Crixus, and filled it with water, dipping one of the rags into it. She handed it to Agron, and he coaxed Nasir into showing him his face, laying the cool cloth across his forehead.

“I will not be far,” she told Agron. “Do not hesitate to call if you need anything.” Agron nodded and they left the room. Agron bathed Nasirs forehead with the water, and spoke soothing words. Nasir could only clutch at Agron, the pain stealing words from him. Agron would have done anything to take that pain away from him.

He could hear Nasirs stomach rumble, and slowly stood up, the smaller man still in his arms. He gently laid him back down onto their bed, and turned to leave. Nasir groaned, reaching out for Agron. “Please, stay.” Agron could not move, could not leave Nasir. He took Nasirs hand in his, and brought it to his lips, brushing the hair that stuck to his face away.

“Naevia?” he called. She was in the room a few seconds later. She stood next to him, waiting. “Can you find some food? For Nasir?” She nodded and left the room.

“I do not want to eat,” Nasir mumbled.

“You need to keep your strength up,” he quietly told him.

His Syrian weakly shook his head, “my stomach is turned at the moment, and will not hold anything.” Agron sighed. Nasir  _needed_ to eat, but his Syrian was stubborn.

Naevia was back in a few minutes, carrying a loaf of bread and a bowl of broth. She placed them on the small table, “Does he need anything else?”

Agron shook his head, “He refuses to eat.”

“Why?”

“He feels too ill to do so.”

Naevia glanced over to Nasir, “The Medicus must have something that will settle his stomach.”

He shook his head, “The Medicus has refused to give him anything, fearing that it will send him to the afterlife.”

She frowned, “I will have words with him. He cannot deny Nasir this. He needs to eat.” Agron nodded, and she left the room. He looked back to Nasir. The smaller man had Agrons hand in a tight grip, refusing to let the gladiator go.

“Will you at least take a drink,” he quietly asked Nasir. The Syrian gave a small nod, and with his free hand, Agron filled a small clay cup with water. He gently pulled his hand free of Nasirs, using it to lift the smaller man’s head up, as he held the cup to Nasirs lips. He drank quickly, choking as he finished the last of it. Agron pulled him up, and sat behind him. Nasir slumped against his chest as he violently coughed. “Shhhh, steady your breath,” he whispered in Nasirs ear, wrapping his arms around his waist. His coughing soon ended, and Agron just held him, while Nasir gripped at the gladiators arms.

Naevia returned a while later, a few leaves in her hand. “What are those?” Agron quietly asked.

“Herbs that will help settle Nasirs stomach,” she said, kneeling in front of them.

“The Medicus?” As much as Agron hated the Medicus for not helping Nasir, his warning still sounded in his head.

“He assured me they will not hurt Nasir; only settle his stomach so that he might eat.” He nodded, and Naevia set the leaves on the table, holding one in her hand. “Nasir?”  Agron moved slightly, and watched as those brown eyes slowly opened, weakly focusing on Naevia. She held up the leaf in her hand, so that he could see it, “if you chew on this, it will help settle your stomach.” Nasir gave a small nod of his head, and reached out to take it with a shaking hand. Naevia gently pushed his hand away, and Agron took it instead, intertwining their fingers. She held the leaf to Nasirs mouth, and he opened it, taking it with his teeth.

He slowly chewed on the leaf, and Agron hoped that it was working. They both anxiously waited for some sign from Nasir that it was. He coughed slightly, and Agron released his hold on Nasirs hand, grabbing the cloth and holding it in front of Nasirs mouth. The Syrian spit the remains of the leaf out, and leaned further back into Agron. “Some bread, maybe,” he whispered. Agron gave Naevia a grateful smile as she handed him the loaf, and left the room. He tore it up into several chunks, placing one in Nasirs hand. The Syrian took small bites, only eating one of the portions. It was better than nothing though.

“How do you feel,” Agron asked sometime later. Nasir was back in his lap, a wet cloth across his forehead once again. “Do not hide anything from me.”

Nasir let out a ragged breath, “my chest feels tight, as if my body has been rammed against the rocks; my body feels as if it is burning in fire, my thoughts are jumbled, distant.” He glanced from Nasirs face, and saw bruises on his chest and arm. He once again cursed Rome and her fucking soldiers for what they had done to Nasir. He had almost lost Nasir once and now to be so close to losing him again. Why did the gods punish him so? What had he done, that they tried to take Nasir from him again?

“Keep fighting,” he ordered the Syrian, begged him.

Nasir nodded his head, his eyes flickering open to meet Agrons gaze, “I’ll never stop.” He then buried his face in Agrons chest, and succumbed to sleep.

Nasir slept fitfully for a few hours, sweat pouring from his body, his breathing labored. Agron quietly whispered into his ear, of the future they would have together, far from Rome. They would live, and grow old together as free men. He told Nasir of the house they would build together. Occasionally they calmed Nasir, but never for long.

 

~~*~~

 

All Nasir could feel was pain. It controlled every part of him, and would not relinquish that control. He would have given in to the pain long ago, if it weren’t for the arms wrapped around him. Agron gave him the strength he needed to keep fighting. He would not leave this life, not until he was old and grey, with Agron at his side, just as the gladiator had promised.

He hid his face in Agrons chest, breathing in his scent as he slept. It was the only reprieve he had from the pain, but it never lasted for long.

The nauseating feeling in his stomach was back. It woke him from sleep, as he coughed again and again. He heard Agron call for Naevia, as his body heaved forward from the force of the coughs. He knew what was going to happen next. He could feel the bile rising in his throat. “Agron,” he warned weakly. A bowl was held in front of him, and he shook violently as he emptied his stomach. He felt someone hold his hair back as he continued to retch, but nothing came up. His body soon gave up, and he collapsed back against Agron.

A blanket was drawn over him, and he gripped at it, pulling it against him. A soft touch wiped at the corners of his eyes, where a few stray tears had formed. He opened his eyes to meet the blue eyes focused on him. The concern in them was overwhelming, and Nasir could see his own pain reflected in those eyes. His arm felt heavy as he lifted it, brushing his hand against Agrons face. The gladiator smiled at the touch, his hand taking Nasirs and intertwining their fingers.

All he wanted was for the pain to end. “How long?” Talking was difficult, his tongue felt heavy.

Agron understood though, “A day.” A _day_? It felt as if it had been months. When would this agony end? “How much longer?”

He could feel the gladiator sigh, his words filled with regret, “I do not know.” He shuddered. Nasir did not know how much longer he could stand the pain. His body ached, and he could feel the afterlife calling him.

Soft lips pressed against his forehead, “Keep fighting.”

Nasir obeyed.

 

~~*~~

 

 Agron watched over Nasir through the night. Naevia had appeared an hour after dawn, and had offered to watch over Nasir for a while, so that he might rest, but Agron refused. He would not leave Nasir’s side. Naevia had known better than to try to convince him otherwise, and left the matter alone after that. Nasir only opened his eyes a few times, as his body fought off the venom. Agron tried to get to him eat, but Nasir would only bury his head in the gladiator’s chest, and no amount of begging and pleading could convince him to take even a small bite. Agron was able to get him to take a few sips of water though, but that still took much coaxing.

If that first day had been hell for Nasir, Agron could not imagine what the second day felt like. His skin was burning with fever, his body shaking violently with coughing fits that would end with him retching into the bowl Agron held out; his arm was still swollen, as well as his chest, every inch of him coated in a layer of sweat. The Syrians heart pounded so fast, Agron feared it would burst. He swayed from sleep and into unconsciousness, and back, scaring Agron. _Please_ , he begged, not knowing to whom though,  _end his pain. End his suffering, and let him live._ Even though Nasir slept, his grip was still tight on Agron.

As he watched Nasir sleep fitfully, it dawned on him just how young Nasir was. He was often referred to as a “boy” by the others, a term that often irritated Nasir. The Syrian was one of the youngest in the rebellion, just only recently reaching manhood. He gently pushed a few stray hairs from his Syrians face, taking in his features, his beauty. If there was one reason above all the others that Nasir deserved to live, it was that he was too young to leave this world. Nasir deserved to live a full life, not die before he had yet to enjoy all of it. He had earned that much. Agron would gladly give his life, to make sure Nasir would live out his.

The sun was fading from the sky when he began to feel and see subtle changes in Nasir. His breath was coming slower, but steadier. His fever still burned, but it was slowly beginning to break. Nasir’s body had been stiff, but was now relaxing slightly in his arms. Sweat no longer coated his body, and he could feel the smaller man’s heart beat slowly match the one beneath his chest.

He prayed to the gods that Nasir’s pain was at last coming to an end. That his body had fought off the last of the venom, and would not succumb to it.

Brown eyes opened to meet his, and they were no longer clouded over in pain. They were clear, and the fire was back in them. “I told you I would fight,” he quietly told Agron, a small smile on his face. Agron laughed, as tears ran down his face. 


End file.
